Back in college, a guy friend of mine asked me out to dinner. We’d been friends more than a year and hung out together quite a bit, so I didn’t suspect it was an actual date until I learned the restaurant he’d chosen was across the US-Canada border, about two hours from campus, and that he wanted to make a day of it. Open to the idea of travel, I agreed to give it a go. On the big day, my friend showed up in a suit and tie. Feeling underdressed in spite of my new shirt and pants, I changed into a dress and heels. Back in the eighties, that involved the wearing of panty hose. He’d put a lot of thought into our itinerary, though, so I decided I could tolerate a little itchiness. The drive to our destination was pleasant, and the weather and stroll through the city’s historic district was beautiful—almost enough to distract me from the torture of navigating cobblestone streets in heels. Turned out, those scratchy nylons were a blessing in disguise, since they helped contain the swelling in my newly twisted ankle. Next up was our museum visit. I stifled a groan at…

Did you ever wonder how a writer’s mind works? Because – spoiler – it isn’t pretty. But I’ll give you a peek. Here’s the flat out truth – I was more than a little tipsy when the idea for my Naked Men series originated. I was at a wine tasting at Fleming’s Steakhouse (twenty-five wines in two hours – hence the tipsiness!). The idea of a series revolving around five guys who share a blog seemed like a winner. Okay, lots of hysterical things seemed like a winner that night, but this one really had legs. Like the wine (that’s a joke only for wine snobs, but I promise they’ll be ROFL over it). Obviously the guys all had to be different. I still have the paper with the original scribbled ideas: the jock, the jerk, the manwhore, the smooth talker, the big business tycoon. Then I drank more cabernet. You know – to celebrate having an awesome idea! So the next day – after much water was consumed – I had to figure out how to turn a fun idea into a book. Because five guys typing a blog post on their laptops is, in fact, not a viable…

I’m a huge believer in fate. When we don’t know what’s ahead, or can’t see how things work, we can trust that Fate is there, stepping in, even if we don’t know she’s there! I’ve seen evidence of this so many times in my life. So much so that I’ve learned to trust. To be comforted, rather than frightened, when Fate takes a hand. Take, for instance, the year I was invited to take part in a Harlequin anthology celebrating older heroines. This was twelve years ago. I’d been asked to contribute a novella to the anthology. I could write any story I wanted to write – as long as the heroine had a late in life pregnancy. Of course, I happily accepted! Within a week, I’d had a call from my brother, who’d already had his fortieth birthday, telling me that he and his wife, his same age, had just found out that they were expecting a child. They’d taken measures, physical measures, to have no more children. This child was truly a miracle. I set out to write my story with joy in my heart. I started researching immediately. And found that one of the big scares for…

On March 25th this year, I was running around looking for my wallet and keys so I could leave the house for a routine doctor’s appointment. When the phone rang, I snatched up the receiver and muttered a distracted “hello” as I tried to close the zipper on my purse. On the other end was Romance Writers of America board member Priscilla Oliveras. She quickly had all of my attention when she asked me if I was sitting down and then told me my debut novel, VIKING WARRIOR RISING, was a RITA® finalist in both the Best Paranormal Romance and Best First Book categories. I don’t remember what else Priscilla told me as I blabbered and cried in response. I was so loud, my husband and the dog rushed into the kitchen to see what had happened. On the drive to the doctor’s office, I called my agent and my editor to give them the good news, which led to more happy tears. And when I rushed into the medical clinic, I told the receptionist and all the people in the waiting room. They had no clue what I was talking about, but nodded and smiled. Maybe they just wanted…